


something wicked this way comes

by antigvne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, can you believe this actually has plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigvne/pseuds/antigvne
Summary: If Lucy Preston has to pinpoint the exact moment that her life started to go off the rails, it would be the moment she was sorted into Ravenclaw.(as Lucy returns for her sixth year at Hogwarts, Jess dumps Wyatt, Jiya starts having strange visions, and her mother may or may not be trying to bring You-Know-Who back using time magic. And somehow, Garcia Flynn got cuter over the summer holidays)





	something wicked this way comes

**Author's Note:**

> find the accompanying pinterest mood board here: https://www.pinterest.com/antigvne/fic-something-wicked-this-way-comes/

If Lucy Preston has to pinpoint the exact moment her life started to go off the rails, it would be when she was sorted into Ravenclaw.

It’s not that Lucy hates being in Ravenclaw -- far from it. Lucy _loves_ being a Ravenclaw. It feel as natural as breathing. She loves the shiny bronze eagle that spoke in riddles on the door, she loves the towering bookcases filled with volumes left by other students in the common room, she loves the starry night sky reflected on the ceiling of her dorm room. The first time she put on her blue and bronze robes, Lucy felt like a puzzle piece was finally sliding into place.

However, her mother was less than thrilled that Lucy had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Carol Preston had come from a long line of Slytherins -- she was head of Slytherin house, for Merlin’s sake! -- and Lucy had always known what was expected of her. Still, while on her head, the sorting hat had mentioned Lucy’s bravery and loyalty, but never anything about her _ambition_ or _cunning_.

Still, there was Amy. She was eight, when Lucy was sorted into Ravenclaw. Though she had yet to show signs of magic, she could still be sorted into Slytherin, and live up to their mother’s wishes. (Though, privately, Lucy thought that her sister would be best suited in Gryffindor, but while Ravenclaw was bad enough for a Preston, Gryffindor would be completely _unacceptable_ ).

Over time, Carol’s displeasure in Lucy’s sorting softened. After Amy had been confirmed a Squib and, much to Lucy’s heartbreak, gone off to live with her father and attend a Muggle school, all of Carol’s faith had been pushed onto Lucy. Much to her joy, her daughter was a natural at History of Magic, following right in her footsteps. Aside from Sunday dinners together, she seemed more than happy to let Lucy alone during the school year.

However, Lucy was not _so_ naive. She could still sense her mother’s disapproval over the outcome of her sorting, especially when Lucy preferred to run around with her group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends rather than ingratiate herself with her Slytherin peers. But going into her sixth year, Lucy had received several O.W.L.S. -- including four ‘Outstandings’! --  in all of her classes, and much to her mother’s relief, was planning to continue History of Magic at N.E.W.T. level. She even got to spend a few weeks over her summer with Amy. All in all, Lucy was ready for whatever her sixth year threw at her.

All of that changes when Wyatt Logan stumbles into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express with a scowl.

Carol Preston’s hatred of Wyatt Logan seemed to know no bounds. A Gryffindor from a wizarding family of little consequence, he had always been clever, but lacked the self-discipline to truly dedicate himself to his work. There was also his unfortunate habit of falling asleep in the last row of her History of Magic lectures, which Carol did not find _nearly_ as amusing as Wyatt himself did.

“Is something wrong?” Lucy closes her book, concerned. Wyatt was normally so easy going, but like most Gryffindors, had a bit of a temper (though Lucy supposes that if Wyatt had gotten into another fight on the train, she would have heard about it by now).

Wyatt sighs in agitation, taking a seat across from Jiya, Lucy’s roommate from Ravenclaw. Jiya was perhaps the one friend of hers that Lucy’s mother somewhat tolerated, though Jiya’s preference for Divination and Ancient Runes was something her mother made sure to criticize in a backhanded fashion whenever she could.

“Jess dumped me.” Wyatt runs a tired hand through his short blond hair. “And I thought I got a glimpse of her coming back from the trolley, and I’m sort of _freaking out_.”

“She _dumped_ you?” Jiya looks up from her empty tea cup, where she had been observing the shape of the discarded leaves. “But you’ve been together for ages!”

“Maybe she finally smartened up.” Flynn snickers from the corner seat, lounging against the window and bending one obscenely long leg over his opposite knee. Wyatt doesn’t even bother to snap back at him, so Lucy _knows_ this is serious.

“We were together all summer! But two weeks after her brother got out of St. Mungo’s, she told me that we were ‘moving in different directions.’” Wyatt explains, angrily unwrapping a chocolate frog, refusing to meet any of their shocked gazes.

“Kevin got out of St. Mungo’s?” Jiya blinks, leaning forward in surprise. “But he’s a maledictus!”

The poor boy had been in the hospital for as long as Lucy had known Jessica Horwood. Kevin was a _maledictus_ \-- someone with a blood curse. He was terminal, and the doctors told the Horwoods at the end of last year that he would not live through the year.

“The healers say it was a miracle. Now the kid is back to zooming around on his toy broom, and playing with his pygmy puff. ” Wyatt almost laughs, crushing the chocolate frog wrapper in his fingers.

Before Lucy can ask more, the door to the compartment is gently pushed open by the blonde in question herself. Jess has already changed into her school robes, her shiny yellow prefect badge pinned neatly to her blazer.

Lucy has always liked Jess, though they spent little time together. She was a kind, laid-back girl who always provided a nice counter-balance to Wyatt’s excitability. Despite her strong grades in Potions and Herbology, Jess seemed to prefer hanging out at the Three Broomsticks and chatting with her fellow Hufflepuffs friends than any academic pursuits.

She looks better than the last time Lucy saw her. At the end of their fifth year, Kevin was at his worst, and Jess, anxious and distracted, had gone ghostly pale from the stress. But now, she seems perfectly relaxed as she steps into the compartment.

Until she ses Wyatt, of course.

Jess shifts nervously on her feet, before turning her attention to Rufus.

“Rufus, Professor Sprout wants to see you after the Welcome Feast, for help with the flutterfly bushes for the fourth years.” Jess informs her housemate. Rufus’s eyes flicker back and forth rapidly between Jess and Wyatt, before nodding slightly.

Jess looks like she’s about to say something else, gaze briefly resting on Wyatt, but she decides against it, giving them all a half wave before slipping out of the compartment.

Wyatt groans in embarrassment, head falling into his hands.

Jiya, however, watches Jess as she leaves, and starts when Jess turns to say something to another girl, a flash of red hair and green robes, outside of their compartment.

“Why is Jess hanging around _Emma Whitmore_?” She raises an eyebrow, addressing Wyatt, and he murmurs a curse into his hands.

“I thought Emma was _expelled_.” Rufus turns to Flynn, who shrugs carelessly.

“Though we’re in the same house, I would rather be eaten by an _acromantula_ than ever interact with Emma Whitmore.” Flynn rolls his eyes, snatching one of Wyatt’s chocolate frogs in annoyance.

Despite being his head of house, Carol Preston _hated_ Garcia Flynn. Lucy never understood it, but always found it odd that the one Slytherin that she was friends with was the one her mother wanted Lucy to avoid. Of course, she hadn’t always been friends with Flynn. Though she rationally knew that not _all_ Slytherins were bad, she was still wary of those sorted into the house right after the end of the War. And when it came out that Flynn had been living with his aunt, and his whole family had been _killed_ in the War…well, Lucy was skeptical, to say the least.

But Flynn was funny. And under all those layers of sarcasm, he was _kind_. He once privately told Lucy that he had almost been in a hatstall between Slytherin and Gryffindor. He was incredible at Transfiguration, though he cared less about History of Magic (another thing to earn Carol’s ire). Better yet, he was tall enough to reach the books on the highest shelf in the library for Lucy.

He had only gotten more handsome over the summer, in Lucy’s opinion (though if pressed, she would deny it). Lucy had to stop herself from staring at him for too long. Sure, he could be sullen, but to those who knew him, Flynn was a loyal friend. So Lucy could not understand how her mother didn’t like _Flynn_ , but seemed to favor _Emma Whitmore_ , who managed to anger Lucy more than any other person at Hogwarts.

“I overheard that she went in front of the Wizengamot.” Lucy finally admits. Halfway through the summer, her mother had begun to take frequent trips to the Ministry. She never explained why, but she heard Emma’s name brought up in hushed conversations behind closed doors. As her head of house, Carol being involved with whatever trouble Emma had got herself into made _sense_ , but the whole ordeal left Lucy feeling uneasy.

“Which yet again begs the question, why on _earth_ is Jess hanging out with her?” Jiya repeats.

“I didn’t even know they ever talked to each other.” Rufus’s forehead scrunches in thought. “Though I think they were partners in Charms once? I can’t remember…”

“Well, considering no one would _willingly_ hang around Emma Whitmore, something is definitely up.” Wyatt seethes, hands curling into fists. “Our match against Slytherin is right after Christmas break. I’ll make _sure_ to wreck her, and the rest of those snivelling Slytherins, on the pitch.”

“Ok, _no_ \--” Lucy raises a hand, ready to tell Wyatt what a _completely and utterly awful plan that is_ , when the door is pushed open again, much more roughly than the way Jess had entered.

Connor Mason stands in the doorway, bright smile stretching across his face. His ‘Head Boy’ badge shines bright on his chest, clearly polished just moments ago, and Lucy suppresses a snort. She likes the older Ravenclaw, truly, but he always was a just a _bit_ too full of himself for his own good.

“We’re set to pull into Hogsmeade in twenty minutes.” His grin never falters. “So get changed, everyone! _A whole new school year is about to begin!”_  


* * *

Lucy’s first class of her sixth year is Monday morning, N.E.W.T. level, History of Magic. Though Lucy herself is excited and eager to start, the early hour, and perhaps a little _dry_ subject matter, makes the rest of the small class less enthusiastic.

“Now, can only tell me when Bran the Bloodthirsty began his third campaign during the Second Giant War?” Carol Preston turns towards her class, chalk still poised over the blackboard. Several of her N.E.W.T. level students drop their gazes to their parchment, either unwilling or unable to answer her question. Unfortunately for them, Carol is a patient woman, and waits for someone to raise her hand.

“Mr. Logan, perhaps?”

Every head whirls to the back row, where Wyatt, who had been asleep as of about five seconds ago, straightens in surprise, fist stifling a yawn.

“ _Hmmm_?” He blinks, and next to Lucy, Flynn bites back a sharp laugh at Wyatt’s misfortune. “What was the question?”

“Bran the Bloodthirsty’s third campaign, Mr. Logan.” Carol reminds him, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“What about it?” Wyatt asks, and a wave of snickers ripples throughout the classroom. Lucy turns around in her seat, trying to get Wyatt’s attention.

“When _was it?_ ” The professor continues, refusing to let up, and Wyatt’s eyes finally meet Lucy’s. _Thirteen fifty four_ , she mouths, careful to stay out of her mother’s view as Carol walks down the rows of desks towards Wyatt.

“ _Fifteen ninety four_.” Wyatt guesses confidently, completely misreading Lucy’s lips, and she groans as the rest of the students laugh.

“Not quite, Mr. Logan.” Carol sighs, turning as she reaches the back of the classroom. “That’ll be ten points from Gryffindor, however, due to your unfortunate habit of sleeping during my class.”

“ _Not my fault your class is--_ ” Wyatt grumbles, doodling on his parchment.

“Shall I deduct another ten, Mr. Logan?” At this, Wyatt falls silent. Next to Lucy, Flynn is trying his hardest not to laugh at the situation. “How about you, Mr. Flynn? When did Bran the Bloodthirsty’s third campaign occur?”

Lucy scribbles the date onto her parchment, and nudges it over to Flynn, who simply ignores it.

“I have no idea, Professor Preston.” A small smirk flits around his lips. “The Giant Wars aren’t exactly my forte.”

She can _tell_ her mother is trying not to roll her eyes. Lucy finally raises her hand carefully, but much to her surprise, her mother waltzes right by her, towards the front of the room.

“Miss Horwood?” Carol comes to a stop at the front row, in front of Jess and Emma’s desk. Jess shifts nervously in her seat, going slightly red at Carol’s attention. As far as Lucy remembers, Jess wasn’t even planning on _taking_ N.E.W.T. level History of Magic, which could only mean that Emma cajoled her into taking it with her.

“Thirteen fifty four?” Jess responds carefully, shirking back as if _waiting_ for her answer to be wrong.

Carol’s lips stretch into a warm smile, and Lucy’s hand falls back into her lap. “Correct, Miss Horwood. Ten points for Hufflepuff.”

Jess exhales, relaxing, grinning slightly as Emma squeezes her hand. From next to Wyatt, Rufus shouts in encouragement, no doubt thrilled that the only other Hufflepuff in History of Magic was doing well, and Jess laughs.

Lucy, however, can’t be bothered to hide her slight scowl. It’s petty, she knows, but she had a tendency to be a bit of a teacher’s pet in History of Magic. But the professor is her own _mother!_ And besides, she’s the best in their class at the subject. It’s not her fault if she got called on the most frequently. Yet, today, her mother blatantly _ignored_ her, even though she was the only one raising her hand. She knows that her mother has to call on everyone _equally_ , but she had never been brushed off like this before.

She tries to catch her mother’s eye as she leaves class, but perhaps expectedly, her mother is too busy speaking with Jess and Emma. Lucy’s bad mood only deepens as she heads off to Herbology.

That afternoon, in her ire, and much to Professor Sprout’s surprise, she hacks four venomous tentaculas to bits.  


* * *

Despite the early hour, little light filters to the floor of the Forbidden Forest. According to Professor Kettleburn, the darkness would help the N.E.W.T.-level Care of Magical Creatures students more easily find the clabberts he had let loose into the woods. For Rufus, Jess, and Wyatt, however, it was just causing them to trip over each other, and wander in circles.

“Do any of you guys see anything?” Rufus whispers over his shoulder. Jess raises the light of her wand a little higher, peering up into the dark canopy of the forest.

“Nothing.” Jess shakes her head. “Though they could just all be hiding.”

“Why the _fuck_ did Kettleburn release these things into the Forbidden Forest again?” Wyatt asks, a little _too_ loudly, considering both Rufus and Jess immediately shush him, not wishing to disturb what other creatures may be lurking, hidden by the trees.  

“We’re supposed to be learning about ‘magical creatures across the world.’” Rufus explains, treading quietly on the moss-covered forest floor. “Though in actuality, I think we need to capture them to prevent clabberts from becoming an invasive species.”

“ _Sounds_ like Professor Kettleburn.” Jess scoffs, eyes scanning the trees for the clabberts’ tell-tale red pustules. “Introduce a new species to the Continent, and have the students round them up just for fun.”

“Well, _he_ certainly can’t round them up himself, he’s already lost both of his legs.” Rufus can’t help but smile, and Jess lets out a sharp laugh.

Wyatt’s shoulders tense at their easy conversation, and when he turns around to face them, his lips are twisted down in a scowl. “Let me know if you two find anything, alright? I’m gonna go look up ahead.”

Jess sighs as Wyatt marches off, and once he’s disappeared into the trees, out of earshot, she turns to Rufus. “He’s still mad at me, isn’t he?”

“Well, you were dating for two years and then you dumped him out of nowhere, so...yeah. He’s still mad at you.” Rufus lets out a quiet, sharp laugh, and Jess exhales, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t out of _nowhere_. We had been having problems for awhile.” Jess admits, raising her wand once again to look for the clabberts they were supposed to be catching. “You know what Wyatt’s like. Everything's black and white, all or nothing.”

Rufus can’t deny that, so he tries to change the subject. “I’m glad to hear that your brother is doing better. Wyatt said he finally got out of St. Mungo’s?”

At this, Jess softens, a small smile curling around her lips at the mention of her younger brother. “He just received his letter from Hogwarts. He’s so excited, he can barely contain himself.”

“I bet he’ll be in Hufflepuff. Just like his sister.” Rufus laughs, picturing another precocious blonde rushing around the Hufflepuff common room, wreaking havoc just as Jess had done.

“I’m thinking Gryffindor, actually.” Her grin slips slightly as her eyes lower, watching carefully so she doesn’t slip on the damp moss coating the forest floor. “He adores Wyatt. He’ll keep an eye on him when I can’t.”

There’s a long pause, and Rufus has no choice but to finally address the elephant in the room. “You know, I think Wyatt is just upset with your sudden affinity for the Dark Side.” He tries to keep his tone indifferent, but he doesn’t meet her eyes as he steps over a fallen log.

Jess lets out a sharp laugh, as if she doesn’t _quite_ believe him. “You all hang out with Flynn enough, and he's in Slytherin. Hell, Lucy's mom is their head of house!”

Rufus stops in place, turning to face the blonde, the annoying pit in his stomach growing with her indifference. “Emma is _bad news_ , Jess.”

Her face darkens, lips twisting down into a scowl, though she raises her wand to search for the clabberts again. “I can handle my girlfriend myself, thanks.”

His brows rise in surprise, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue. “Your _girlfriend_?”

Jess sends him a look, withering enough to wipe the surprise right off of his face. “Feel free to tell that to Wyatt, too.”

Before Rufus can respond, the cracking of twigs against the ground interrupts their conversation. The duo turn to see Wyatt walking towards them once more, a Clabbert in his hand. The green frog-like animal croaks in indignation, the red pustule on its stomach glowing, and Wyatt grimaces.

“Let’s go. This thing _bites_.” Wyatt winces, and the clabbert snaps, trying to lunge for Wyatt’s hand.

Jess’s eyes flicker back to Rufus, almost challenging him to spill all the details of her new relationship with Emma. Rufus can practically _see_ their argument, with Rufus and the clabbert trapped helplessly in the middle, so Rufus wisely decides to stay quiet on the long walk out of the Forbidden Forest

When he tells Wyatt over lunch about the two girls, Wyatt grips his goblet of pumpkin juice so tightly that it explodes right in his face.

 

* * *

Lucy had overall had a spectacularly boring week, so she figures that Sunday dinner with her mother will be uneventful. Unfortunately, her mother never fails to surprise her.

“Professor Flitwick says that you gave a very interesting analysis about the origins of non-verbal spellcasting in your N.E.W.T. Charms class this week.” Her mother comments over dinner, and Lucy shrugs slightly, but she feels the blush rising in her cheeks. Her mother’s praise had always been hard to come by, and her heart still swells with pride when her mother ever deigned to compliment her.

“But a misfired jinx in Professor Christopher’s class,” Carol tsks, and Lucy pales. Her mother doesn’t look up at she carefully cuts her carrots, causing the pit in Lucy’s stomach to grow. Of course, her mother’s praise always had to come with a critique. How she even found out about her misstep in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she doesn’t know, but some part of her isn’t _surprised._ “You must be more careful, Lucy. Defense Against the Dark Arts is a valuable subject--”

“I know, I know.” Lucy sighs, shoulders slumping as she stabs balefully at her potatoes. “But Wyatt made me laugh, and distracted me--”

This is definitely the _wrong_ thing to say. Carol’s utensils clatter to the table, and Lucy winces as her mother turns to face her more directly, her withering gaze causing any and all pride that rushed into Lucy’s heart to dissipate in an instant.  

“Well, perhaps you should get a partner who won’t _distract_ you so much.” Her mother seethes, and Lucy’s eyes fall to her plate. “Miss Whitmore, for instance. She is at the top of your class, a _prodigy_ in Defense Against the Dark Arts--”

“I don’t want anything to do with Emma Whitmore, actually.” Lucy snaps, ignoring the pit in her stomach that always stems from standing up to her mother.

“You’re been _unreasonable_ .” Carol chides, like she’s speaking to a _child_ , and Lucy’s nose scrunches slightly in annoyance as she idly moves her peas around her plate. “She’s an excellent student, and will no doubt help you succeed.”

“What, she’ll ‘help me on my way to greatness’?” Lucy scoffs, knowing that she’s testing her mother’s limits, but at this point, she couldn’t care less. “ _I’m not in Slytherin_ , Mom. Besides, why do you care so much about Emma? She’s about as agreeable as a _chimera--”_

“ _Lucy--_ ” Her mother’s response is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

The girl in question steps into the room, closing the door behind her. For once, Emma lacks her usual bluster, and seems rather _wary_ as she steps forward, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized sweater. “Hi, Professor Preston. I’m early, I know, I can wait--”

“It’s fine, Emma. Lucy has Potions homework to do. She was just leaving.” Carol smiles tightly, giving Lucy a sharp look, which is all the encouragement she needs to stand up and head for the door.

Lucy turns to say goodbye to her mother, but she is already deep in hushed conversation with Emma. She rolls her eyes as she leaves.

Still, it doesn’t take away the sting.

 

* * *

“ _Flynn!”_ Lucy shouts, circling Hagrid’s hut, crunching through the fallen, late autumn leaves. “ _We have to get to Transfiguration!”_

He hadn’t been at lunch, and they had Transfiguration class in a half an hour. Though Professor McGonagall seemed to be fond of the two, Lucy doubts that she would tolerate any sort of lateness, especially when they had two lengths of parchment on _Revelio_ due. Jiya had said she had seen Flynn walking towards the edge of the forest, where they held Care of Magical Creatures, but she had yet to track down the Slytherin boy.

“ _Shhhhh_ .” Lucy’s head whips around, and _there_ is Flynn, leaning against one of the tall, dark trees bordering a clearing on the forest’s edge. “ _You’ll scare them_.”

Lucy tiptoes closer, staying as quiet as she can, but still, she can’t see _anything_ in the clearing that Flynn is watching so intently.

“ _What will I scare, exactly?”_ She whispers, as she takes a place by Flynn’s side. Flynn lets out a sharp, sad laugh, but his focus never wavers from the clearing in front of them.

“The thestrals.” He informs her, a small smile curling around his lips. “They pull the carriages from the train station up to Hogwarts.”

Lucy’s brow furrows in confusion. “Those carriages pull _themselves_.”

He shakes his head. “They’re invisible to most people. You can only see them if….if you’ve seen death.”

Her attention shifts from the mysteriously empty clearing to Flynn himself. He looks more at peace than Lucy’s ever seen him, but still, there’s a darkness clouding his eyes, a tightness in his shoulders, that Lucy doesn’t think will ever go away.

“They’re beautiful creatures, you know.” Flynn reaches out to stroke, well, _air_ as far as Lucy can tell. “Though I hope you never see them yourself.”

A long moment passes, and Lucy watches as Flynn steps forward, pulls a hunk of meat stolen from lunch out of his bag and throws it into the air. It disappears in seconds, the invisible animals wolfing it down. Lucy makes a small noise of surprise, and Flynn barks out a laugh, before sobering.

“It’s because of my parents, that I can see them.” Flynn whispers, but doesn’t turn around to look at Lucy directly. “That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it?”

To be fair, it _is_ , but Lucy’s eyes still widen in surprise. “I didn’t think you were there when--”

“When they were murdered?” Flynn laughs sourly, shoulders going tense, hands curling in his pockets. “I was hiding under the bed.”

Her throat goes tight and she drops her gaze, suddenly feeling intrusive and embarrassed, even if he can’t see her. She has a million more questions, doesn’t know which ones are appropriate or not, but she had always been too curious for her own good. “So you know who did it, then?”

He shakes his head, hand trembling as he reaches out to pet a Thestral again. “No, I didn’t. They were wearing masks. All I hope is that the people who did it died in the War, or are rotting in Azkaban.”

Lucy starts, brows shooting up in shock. She knew Flynn wasn’t _bad_ by any means, but any orphan who lost their parents in the War, who was sorted into _Slytherin_ \-- well there was only one logical conclusion, wasn’t there?

“They weren’t Death Eaters?”

Flynn scoffs, and when he turns to face her, he seems disappointed, but not particularly surprised. “No, they weren’t _Death Eaters_. Do you really think so low of me?”

“No, _no!”_ Lucy blushes, flustered with embarrassment. “It’s just, they died and you said your mother was in Slytherin too --”

“They worked for the _Ministry_ , Lucy.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “I think they found out about something that they weren’t supposed to.”

“I’m sorry.” She steps forward and reaches up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “ _I’m sorry_.”

He slowly lays a hand over hers, soft and heavy, before he looks back towards the thestrals. The pain in his eyes slowly dissipates, and when he turns his head and meets Lucy’s eyes, a small smile plays at his lips.

“So, _Lucija,”_ Warmth blooms all the way down to Lucy’s toes, and she _prays_ Flynn doesn’t notice her blush. By the way his eyes sparkle, though, he does -- he _definitely_ does. “Are you ready to head to McGonagall’s class?”

Her fingers dig a little tighter into Flynn’s solid shoulder as she shuffles closer, breath fogging in the crisp autumn air.

“ _Let’s just stay here a little longer_.”

* * *

Lucy’s favorite time of the year is Christmas.

Sure, the castle was always frigid cold, the howling winds tended to keep her up at night, and most of the other students went back to their families for a precious few days of home. Staying at Hogwarts with only her mother to keep her company was hardly ideal, but Christmas always meant one thing: she got to visit Amy.

Of course, Amy wasn’t allowed in Hogwarts, and though her mother disapproved of Lucy cavorting around muggle society, it was far more preferable than the alternative. Lucy hadn’t spoken to her sister since the summer holidays, since Amy didn’t have an owl to send letters back and forth.

After using Floo Powder to get to wizarding London, it was only a half an hour train ride to Amy’s town. The train was always her favorite part of the day (besides seeing her sister, of course). For awhile, she got to become a part of something so different and _alien_ from herself. It was exciting, it was thrilling, and oddly enough, it was somehow comforting.

Amy’s grown in the months since Lucy’s seen her, her auburn hair swishing down her back. She’s talking before they even get in the _car_ , Lucy too startled by the mysterious machine and the onslaught of new information to respond much.

Her sister’s father and stepmother are kind, and thankfully leave the two girls to their own devices. Amy makes them hot chocolate -- so _slow_ , Lucy wishes she could just use magic to get the kettle to heat faster -- as snow begins to fall outside. And when the settle on the window seat in the living room, right across from the roaring fireplace, it feels like this is Lucy’s home, too.

“I brought you something.” Lucy smiles, leaning over to rifle through her mokeskin purse. Amy’s eyes widen as Lucy’s arm sinks up to her shoulder, despite the purse appearing relatively compact. Finally, her fingers catch the curve of a ceramic pot, and she has found what she was looking for. “ _Here._ ”

She pulls out a small potted plant, the leaves round and deep green. Amy eyes it carefully before reaching forward, a finger gently brushing along the stem. “What _is_ it?”

“It’s Dittany.” Lucy explains, passing the pot over to her younger sister. “It’s used in quite a few potions. You can just grind it up, though, and it can heal most open wounds. It needs a lot of water, so ---”

“I can’t take this, Luce.” Amy shakes her head, pushing the plant back into Lucy’s hands. The older girl’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “ _What if mom finds out?_ ”

“When have you ever cared about what mom thinks?” Lucy laughs. Amy had always been the rebellious on out of the two of them. Even now that Amy no longer _lives_ with them, she still found ways to needle their mother, much to Lucy’s amusement.

“You could get in trouble with the Ministry--” Her younger sister pushes Lucy away when she tries to hand her the plant again.

Lucy’s face darkens in frustration. “I don’t _care_ about the Ministry, and I’m sure they don’t give a damn about one Dittany plant, either!”

“ _Stop, Lucy!”_ Amy, usually so affable, actually _shouts_ , rising to her feet, and Lucy blinks in surprise. “Just _stop!_ ”

Lucy flinches, because her sister’s raised voice is like a slap in the face. Never in her life has that been tone been aimed at _her_ . “ _Amy_ \--”

“No matter how many plants you give me, how many potions you teach me to brew, I’m still not going to be what you want!” She shouts, and Lucy feels the embarrassed tears stinging in her eyes. It reminds her of being chastised by her mother when she was a child. “ _I’ll never have magic!”_

Lucy recoils like she’s been stung. “ _What is that supposed to mean_?”

“We’re not kids anymore, Lucy.” Amy whispers, crossing her arms around herself. “You can’t keep pretending like we’re the same.”

The brunette exhales and lets her eyes slip close, because Amy is _right._ She misses her sister, misses the days when everyone thought Amy _had_ magic, how they would play on toy brooms and laugh and clap when their mother made their paper dolls dance around the room. She misses how close they were before Lucy went off to Hogwarts, and before their mother seemed to shut out Amy for good.

“It’s _okay_.” Amy smiles slightly as she slides into the seat across from Lucy once again, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me. Sure, I know how cool the wizarding world is, but muggle stuff is pretty cool, too.”

“I _did_ always find the history of the British monarchy interesting.” Lucy sniffles, trying to blink away her tears.

Amy manages a laugh. “Now, _I_ have a gift for you. Just promise not to tell mom! And...I’ll promise to hide the Dittany plant the best I can.”

Finally, Lucy smiles. “ _Deal_.”

And from under one of the pillows on the window seat, Amy pulls out a book. The supple carmel leather is soft against her palm, and Lucy’s fingertips brush over the gilded stamped lettering on the cover.

“It’s no _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , but…” Amy shrugs slightly. “I still think it’s pretty good.”

“‘ _Children’s and Household Tales_ by the Brothers Grimm.’” Lucy reads the title out loud, before flipping through the yellowing pages. There are no moving illustrations, nor mentions of invisibility cloaks or cackling tree stumps, but it fascinates Lucy all the same. “Are these children’s stories?”

“Fairy tales, they’re called.” Amy explains, before letting out a short laugh. “Silly, I know.”

“I _love_ it.” Her voice drops in reverence. “A real, muggle book!” Her mother would never allow such a thing in their house, but her mother never need know. Besides, what’s the harm in a muggle children’s book?”

As Lucy wraps her in a hug, Amy buries her face into her hair, breath hot against her ear.

“Whatever she says, Lucy, _I will always be your sister_ .” Amy whispers, and a cold shiver rushes down Lucy’s spine. “ _We will always be sisters_.”

Lucy’s fingers curl into Amy’s back, and at that moment, she’s glad that her younger sister can’t see the look on her face.

 _“Always._ ”

* * *

The Saturday of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin is positively _miserable_. The morning sky is full of dull, grey clouds. Freezing rain begins to fall, stinging Lucy’s cheeks, as they take their seats in the stands.

By the time the match starts, icy wind whips through the crowd, and the cold fog all but obscures the view of the players themselves. Still, she’s somewhat warm, squished in the Gryffindor section with Flynn, Jiya, and Rufus. Flynn even had a flask of firewhiskey stashed in his coat pocket.

“Can any of you see Wyatt?” Jiya squints, breathing into her hands to warm up. Truth be told, Lucy can’t even tell which players are in Gryffindor and which are in Slytherin in this weather.

“ _BAUMGARDNER HAS THE QUAFFLE AND….SCOOOORE! TEN POINTS  FOR GRYFFINDOR!”_ Connor Mason announces, not bothering to hide his happiness at Gryffindor’s success. For what it’s worth, no one else is hiding it, either, considering every student in the stands _not_ in Slytherin erupts into cheers.

As she sits back down, she can just make out Jess in the Slytherin section next to her, wrapped in a Hufflepuff scarf but with a green, Slytherin beanie on her head. Jess had always been a permanent fixture on the _Gryffindor_ side of the stands when she was dating Wyatt, but not this time.

In fact, Jess doesn’t look too concerned over Gryffindor’s goal. Her focus is elsewhere, and she slowly raises a hand to block some of the icy rain in order to get a better view.

She follows her gaze, and _there --_ Emma, zooming towards a hint of glittering gold. _The snitch_. She’s climbing higher and higher, and Lucy’s stomach plummets.

“Emma’s about to get the snitch!” She nudges Flynn, who raises an interested brow, grabbing his binoculars to get a better view.

Lucy holds her breath as Emma reaches out, racing closer and closer towards the snitch. Her fingers brush against the fluttering gold ball, _almost there_ , and Lucy is _certain_ that all hope is lost--

A bludger barrels into Emma’s ribcage, sending the redhead’s broom spiraling, hurtling towards the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and even Flynn, in Slytherin house _himself_ , cracks a smile. Emma crashes into the ground with an _oomph_ , broom exploding into splinters, and Lucy smothers the urge to wince. _Serves her right, after all_.

Wyatt flies by, waving his beater’s bat, celebrating his good hit. The crowd roars in response, and Wyatt pauses to egg on the excitement of the stands full of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors. Well, Lucy reckons that arrogance has always been one of his character flaws, because Wyatt is too busy cheering to notice the Slytherin beaters sending a particularly foul bludger straight for his back.

“ _WYATT, LOOK OUT!”_ Jiya tries to shout over the crowd, but it’s too late. The bludger slams into Wyatt’s shoulder, sending him spiraling towards the ground, desperate to gain control of his broom. He is barely able to pull up enough to avoid crashing face first, but he makes contact with the ground regardless, tumbling over and over onto the grass.

An audible groan ripples through the crowd before it falls silent, and Lucy rises to her feet, hand over her mouth in horror as she rushes down from the stands towards Wyatt’s figure, with Jiya, Rufus, and Flynn hot on her heels.

Madam Hooch is too busy trying to control the complete and utter _chaos_ that has broken out in the air between the two teams to fly to the ground, the rest of the players roughly jostling each other and shouting obscenities, tensions high because of Emma’s and Wyatt’s crashes.

For what it’s worth, Emma hasn’t so much as _moved_ , curled in the frigid January grass. Jess is crouched over her, having rushed out of the stands the moment Emma hit the ground. Lucy tries not to roll her eyes, and decides to focus her energy on making sure Wyatt is okay.

Luckily, Wyatt has managed to sit up. There’s a gash on his forehead and his cheeks are pink from exertion and the cold, but besides a slight wince, he seems otherwise unharmed.

“Are you alright?” Lucy asks in concern as Rufus helps Wyatt to his feet.

“I’ve definitely been better, but…” He breaks into a large grin. “That was definitely worth it.”

From a few yards away, Emma lets out a pitiful groan of pain as Jess helps her sit up, face streaked with dirt, hands scratched and bloody.

“What the _hell_ , Wyatt?” Jess seethes as she wraps one of Emma’s arms around her shoulders, pulling her up to her feet. “I think you broke her _ribs_. She needs to go to the hospital wing!”

“Come on, it was a fair hit!” Wyat scoffs, smile barely wavering even when Jess shoots him a glare.

“You’re just upset that Jess _dumped_ you. It hurts your feelings, doesn’t it? Poor _baby_!” Emma laughs cruelly, and despite the cacophony around them, Lucy hears it loud and clear. “It looks like her tastes have improved.”

Emma _did_ always have a talent for pushing people’s buttons, but this is most certainly the _wrong_ thing to say, and Lucy knows it the moment Wyatt’s shoulders tense, hurt briefly flashing in his eyes.

“ _Have they_ ?” Wyatt takes two long steps forward, breaking away from Flynn who had half-heartedly put a hand on his shoulder to try and hold him back. “At least my parents _have_ magic! I'm not a filthy mudblood like _you_.”

Lucy isn’t even a muggleborn, but the words still hit her like a brick. She knows Wyatt doesn’t harbor any of those nasty pureblood prejudices, that his family was against You-Know-Who like many others. He’s just saying it to get to Emma. Whatever his motivation, it’s worked, considering the shock, anger, and pain rapidly flickering across Emma’s face.

“ _Wyatt--_ ” Jess admonishes him through her teeth, looking equal parts furious and horrified. Emma, however, seems to have decided to take on this fight in her own hands, because before Lucy can even _warn_ Wyatt, Emma’s wand is in her hand, and Wyatt’s own wand is flying out of his cloak pocket, hundreds of feet in the air into the stands.

Emma wrenches herself out of Jess’s grasp and stalks towards Wyatt, who is doing a miserable job of trying to hide his rapidly increasing fear behind his bluster. Lucy doesn’t know _why,_ exactly, none of them intervene on Wyatt’s behalf -- equal parts concern over getting in trouble, fear of what Emma could do, and sheer curiosity, if Lucy has to guess.

Still, Lucy does _not_ suspect Emma to punch Wyatt square in the face. He crumples to the ground almost instantly, blood pouring out of his nose.

Flynn actually _laughs_. “Well, he’s had this coming, hasn’t he?”

Wyatt tries to swing back at her, but Emma easily blocks the hit, kneeling on his chest to prevent him from getting up. She punches him again, and Wyatt lets out a pained groan.

“You think I’m a filthy mudblood? _Fine._ ” Emma seethes, knuckles rapidly becoming soaked in Wyatt’s blood. “ _I’ll show you how a mudblood fights_.”

Jess, meanwhile, doesn’t seem particularly _surprised_ at this turn of events. She simply folds her arms over her chest, lips twisting down in displeasure, most likely having figured that a showdown between Wyatt and Emma was bound to happen sooner or later.

Just as Emma raises her fist to hit him once more, a blast of blue sparks fills the air, and Emma is sent flying off of him, finally landing to the ground in a heap twenty feet away, right on her injured rib cage. She coughs weakly, spitting up blood, before stilling.

“That is _enough_ !” Professor McGonagall lowers her wand as she approaches the group. “I have never seen such unsportsmanlike behavior between two students.” She sighs in resignation, adjusting her glasses, and she turns to Wyatt. He’s managed to sit up, more dazed than anything, blood still pouring out of his nose and onto his Quidditch robes. “Mr. Logan, I will escort you to the hospital wing _myself_ before discussing your punishment.”

“ _I didn’t_ do _anything!_ ” Wyatt protests, waving towards Emma, who seems to have finally passed out from her pain _._ “This is all _her_ fault!”

“Quiet, Mr. Logan.” McGonagall’s tone brokers not debate. “Miss Horwood, please help the staff bring Miss Whitmore to the hospital wing.”

Jess nods, eyes falling to the ground before rushing over to Emma’s side once more. Lucy’s mother and Professor Christopher have descended from the faculty box, and are slowly lifting the redhead onto a stretcher they had conjured.

As both Emma and Wyatt are taken to the Hospital wing, Flynn lets out another laugh. “Connor Mason owes me two sickles.”

“You _bet_ on this?” Jiya links her arm with Rufus’s, trying to stay warm despite the frigid wind.

Flynn shrugs, grinning, and shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets. “Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? This seemed like the most likely time for something to happen.”

Lucy shoots him a displeased look, but his smile doesn’t falter. “We should get to the Hospital wing and see how Wyatt’s doing.”

They turn to leave the pitch, the rest of the Quidditch players finally being called down by Madam Hooch’s insistent whistling, the stands emptying as it becomes apparent that the game will not continue.

Flynn’s hand emerges from his pocket, flask in hand. “I think this calls for some celebratory fire whiskey, don’t you think?”

And Lucy may roll her eyes, but she takes a large swig anyway, eyes watering from the burn.

She’s not sure if the warmth spreading in her stomach is from the alcohol, or from Flynn’s impressed smile.

* * *

“Now, in the early 1600s, the great seer Zamara Hopkins looked into her crystal orb and first predicted the massacre of American witches at Salem…”

Jiya yawns, resting her head on her hand as she gazes into the crystal ball in front of her, letting Professor Trelawney ramble on about important developments in crystal orb reading in the 17th century. Normally, Divination is her favorite subject, but today she simply can’t pay attention. Something had been off all day. Perhaps her porridge at breakfast was bad?

The white clouds in the crystal orb swirl incessantly, and Jiya’s eyes begin to drift closed, soothed by Professor Trelawney’s monotone.

_Running, running, running. Wyatt screaming, a shadow of a bruise covering his jaw. A time turner, spinning and spinning, the world going fuzzy. Lucy, tears streaked across her face, Flynn rocking her as she cries. Jess, surrounded by darkness, looking over her shoulder as she disappears down a long hallway. Emma, green sparks flying from her wand, hair whipping in the wind._

_Rufus, laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth, eyes slipping closed…_

“Miss Marri. _Jiya!”_ Professor Trelawney shakes her, and Jiya’s eyes flicker open. How she ended up on the floor of the Divination classroom, she doesn’t know, but Trelawney and her fellow sixth year Divination students stare down at her in concern. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shakes her head and lets a few other students help her sit up. _What the fuck was that, exactly?_ “I must have fainted, I guess.”

“You’re _sure?_ ” Trelawney frets, voice dropping. “Did you... _see_ anything?”

Jiya’s brows knit in confusion. “ _No_ .” Her eyes drop to the floor, avoiding Professor Trelawney's insistent gaze. “ _I didn’t see anything at all_.”

* * *

 

Lucy knew that her mother was an accomplished witch. When she was younger, every night after dinner, her mother would entertain her and Amy with tales of fantastic witches and wizards, with charms that would make all the plates and utensils dance around the room, with spells that would change Amy’s hair from auburn to bubblegum pink to neon blue and back again.

Still, she hadn’t known that her mother also excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, until Carol Preston pointed out her disappointment with Lucy’s floundering grades in the subject, and took it upon herself to help her. It meant more time with her mother, which was good, but it also meant _more time with her mother_.

“Now, try again. You have to make sure you _mean_ it, Lucy.” Carol raises her wand. “Watch me. _Confringo!_ ”

The old table bursts violently into a pile of ash, sending a shock wave through the air strong enough to make Lucy’s hair flutter around her shoulders. With another wave of Carol’s wand, the ashes curl into the air, reassembling themselves into the table.

Lucy sighs, fingers tightening around her wand as she settles into her stance. She learned _Confringo_ in fifth year, for Merlin’s sake, but her mother insisted that her casting of the spell didn’t have quite enough _oomph_ behind it.

“ _Confringo!_ ” Well, Lucy has always been a bit clumsy -- the blue jet of sparks comes out strong, but she misses the table, instead hitting the ornate water pitcher next to her mother. For what it’s worth, the pitcher crumbles into ash, but the _water_ , on the other hand, soaks her mother’s blouse. “ _Shit._ Sorry.”

“Language, Lucy.” Her mother reminds her sternly, staring down at her wet sweater. Lucy raises her wand, ready to dry it for her, but she shakes her head. “No, no. You’ve done _enough_. Just focus on fixing the water pitcher.”

Her mother’s retribution stings, and she feels the telltale blush of embarrassment rise in her cheeks. She fixes the pitcher with a wave of her wand -- she’s always been better at putting things back together than she has been at destroying them -- and refills it with water. Stubborn, humiliated tears threaten to spill over as she glances back at her mother.

Carol Preston is walking towards her bedroom, obviously in search of a dry shirt, but as she pulls up her blouse, Lucy catches a mark high on her ribcage that shoves all of her shame to the side in an instant. It’s an arrow, pitch black, with _something_ wrapped around it -- a snake, maybe? Her mother is too far away for Lucy to see properly.

“It’s getting late. You should go.” Carol sighs as she emerges from her bedroom, having replaced her blouse with a soft lavender sweater. “I’m sorry for snapping at you early. _You’ve gotten better_.”

Lucy nods slightly, the earlier incident having almost completely been shoved out of her mind in favor of figuring out _when her mother got a strange tattoo that she didn’t know about_.

“Next time,” Carol calls out to her as Lucy slips out the door. “ _We’ll work on Stupefy!”_

* * *

Flynn finds Lucy in the library the next afternoon, surrounded by towers of books on symbology and ancient runes, so high that he can barely see the top of her head.

“Well, this certainly doesn’t _look_ like Potions homework.” He turns over the copy of _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ Lucy had left on the table. Her nose wrinkles in annoyance, but she simply turns the page of the day's issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

“I'm taking a break from studying.” It's only a half lie, to be fair. Sure, she had completely pushed her Potions homework to the back of her mind, but she had spent the last five hours pouring over symbology and runes texts, trying to find out just what, exactly, her mother's strange tattoo meant. She’s had no luck, despite searching through older and older books. Part of her wants to think that it's simply an odd tattoo, but she had such a strange feeling about it, that she's not ready to give up.

“Lucy Preston not studying? _Shocking_ .” He snickers as he slouches in the chair next to her. Lucy shoots him a glare as she turns the page -- _recent Auror activity and arrests_.

“Garcia Flynn _studying_ ? _Shocking_ .” She mocks, eyes scanning the page. _Tampering with Muggle artifacts, illegal trade of Appaloosa puffskeins, plot to break into Gringotts --_

Flynn grumbles on, spouting some excuse for his variable work ethic in Potions class, but Lucy’s too distracted, looking over the pictures of those recently sent to Azkaban. One of them, self-confident and smug despite his sentence, sends a shiver down her spine. He’s handsome, in a haughty sort of way. In fact, he seems sort of _familiar_ …

When he turns his head, Lucy can’t contain her gasp. Because there, on his neck, is the same symbol that is on her mother’s side -- the arrow, with what looks like a _snake_ wrapped around it.

“Oh my _god_.” She smooths the paper on the table, brows knitting in thought as her stomach sinks.

Flynn spares a glance at the paper, at the smirking man. “ _Nicholas Keynes_. Do you know him, or something?”

Her fingers brush over the picture, and she spares a slight glance towards Madam Pince, before lowering her voice. “Do you see that tattoo? That funny looking arrow? My mom has it on her side. I had never seen it before.” She sighs, running a trembling hand through her hair. “I wasn’t going to tell you all about it until I figured out what it meant.”

“This man was arrested for consorting with You-Know-Who, Lucy.” Flynn whispers, shifting closer lest they be overheard.

Lucy tries to smother the small noise of shock forming the back of her throat, nervous tears pricking in her eyes. _“But--_ ”

When she looks up at Flynn, though, his eyes are trained on the man in the paper. His jaw is tight, fingers curled into fists, and there’s a burning _anger_ in his eyes that Lucy hardly recognizes. “I recognize that symbol, Lucy.”

“You _do_?” Her brows raise in surprise.

Flynn shakes his head, but still doesn’t meet her eyes. “It was on the masks of the Death Eaters who killed my parents.”

Lucy is silent for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

Flynn sinks back into the plush, leather chair in front of the fire, stretching his legs out in front of him. At this hour of the night, the Slytherin common room is empty, dark except for the low green light given off by the lanterns.

Suddenly, he hears the entrance to the common room swing open, shoes clicking against the stone floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of red hair, bright against an emerald green sweater.

“You're back late.” Flynn doesn't look up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , even when Emma scoffs. “Did you have fun making first years cry?”

“I didn't know you cared! How _sweet_.” Emma sneers as she flops into the armchair across from him, and Flynn’s fingers curl just a bit tighter around his paper.

“I only care about whatever house points you managed to lose us.” He bites, ignoring Emma's sharp laugh as she waves her wand, making the kettle on the side table pour a steaming cup of tea for her.

“And here I thought you were _above_ inter-house competition.” She takes a long sip of her tea, watching him carefully over the rim of her mug. “You must think I've been sulking about in secret passages, up to something particularly suspicious.”

“Haven't you?” Flynn snaps his paper closed, and a slow smirk curls around her lips.

“If you call doing my Charms homework with Jess in the Hufflepuff common room ‘suspicious.’” She runs her fingers through her mussed hair, and he catches a hint of a red-purple hickey blooming on her pale neck, just above her collar, making Flynn very much doubt that they were simply just _doing their homework_.

“Though I would consider going in front of the Wizengamot for the underaged use of magic to be suspicious. Wouldn't you?” He knows it's not _fair_ , exactly, but he revels in the cloud that passes over Emma's face at his words.

Her lips twist into a frown. “So that's what you and your merry little band think? That I, what, ran around torturing muggles and got caught?”

“Well, people don't get sent in front of the Wizengamot for no reason.” Flynn crosses one leg over the other, sinking back in his chair. Truth be told, he's curious. Emma has been his housemate for six years now, and sure, she’s always had a rebellious streak, but getting involved with the Ministry was a whole new level of trouble.

Her scowl deepens, but her eyes drop to the floor as she sighs. “If I tell you what _really_ happened, will you all just drop it?”

This piques Flynn’s interest, though he's careful not to show it. He merely shrugs. “Depends on what _really_ happened.”

Her gaze shifts from the floor to the fire, and in the low, warm light, he can see a faded scar running up the side of her neck that he's never noticed before.

“You're lucky, you know.” She whispers, eyes shining with _something_ Flynn can't describe. “Even though they’ve passed, your parents _loved_ you. My father would rather drink and hit his wife and daughter than go out and work.”

Flynn's self-satisfied grin slips, but Emma doesn't seem to notice.

“I thought it would get better once I came to Hogwarts, but my magic only made him more disgusted with me.” She continues sourly. “For the most part, I could handle it, but last summer, he started to hurt my mom more and more…”

She shakes her head slightly, as if trying to cast off the memory. “ _He was going to kill her_ . He was strangling her right in front of me. She couldn’t _breathe_. And I don’t know what happened, I just…”

“Emma, you don’t have to--” He reaches out, but she jerks away from him, as if she’ll be burned by his touch.

“I _hated_ him, but I never would have _killed_ him.” Emma’s voice trembles, nails biting into the soft skin of her palms. “Still, I was sent in front of the Wizengamot. Professor Preston and Professor Dumbledore, they knew how awful my father was, and they testified on my behalf.”

Flynn watches her for a long moment, her fingers idly moving along the rim of her mug, seemingly lost in thought.

“And Jess knows about this, I'm guessing?” He finally asks.

At the mention of the blonde Hufflepuff, a small smile curls around her lips. “Jess was kind to me, when my life was short on kindness.”

“Why did you let people keep spreading those vile rumors, then?” He leans forward, brows knitting in confusion. “You never stopped them--"

“I'm a muggle-born in Slytherin, Flynn.” Emma scoffs, finally meeting his gaze, eyes blazing. “I don't need to be known as the girl whose father beat the shit out of her, too.”

He doesn't say anything to that, knowing how difficult it must be to have muggle parents in Slytherin house, especially so soon after the tall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. “Still, you let everyone believe your parents were Death Eaters, and you never stop them. What's your excuse?”

He scowls, but is somehow not surprised that Emma pieced together at least some part of his family history. “Sometimes, it's easier to pretend to be someone you're not.”

She stands, falling silent, but he relaxes upon seeing the spark of understanding in her eyes.

“Flynn?” Emma turns, hair swinging, just as she's about to disappear down the hall towards the girls’ dormitory. “If you tell anyone about this, _I'll kill you in your sleep_.”

Flynn laughs, reopening up his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as he shakes his head. “Oh, I don't doubt it.”

* * *

Wyatt, Jiya, Rufus, Flynn, and Lucy stumble into the Three Broomsticks, kicking snow off of their boots, pinks flushed from the cold walk from Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade. Jiya steps towards the bar to order their usual drinks, greeting Madam Rosmerta, while the other four head for their usual table in the back. The bar is busy today, many determined to get out of the cold early March air, and they have to stumble over piles of discarded hats and coats to get to the table.

“Do those two ever _stop?_ ” Wyatt seethes, jerking his head towards the fireplace. Jess and Emma are perched on one of the warm leather couches, half on top of each other, practically attached by the mouth. God, Lucy doesn’t even think they stop kissing to _breathe_. When Jess’s hand sneaks past the hem of Emma’s skirt, reaching for the soft skin underneath, Wyatt lets out a humiliated groan.

“Having seen Jess and Emma more than enough in the Hufflepuff Common Room, I can confirm that they absolutely _do not_.” Rufus lets out a sharp laugh, and Wyatt’s scowl deepens.

“She’s doing it to get to me, you know.” He grumbles as they take their usual table in the corner, shrugging off their layers of winter clothing.

“Who’s doing it to get to you?” Jiya returns from the bar, wand in hand, five drinks floating behind her.

“I don’t know! Both of them.” Wyatt huffs, roughly grabbing his butterbeer from Jiya.

“That makes perfect sense. After all, the only reason Emma and Jess could possibly want to be together is just to spite _you_.” Flynn comments dryly, and Lucy hides her grin behind the rim of her mug.

Wyatt bites back, and Lucy watches in amusement as the two boys argue back and forth. Rufus watches too, entertained, but Jiya has fallen quiet, staring thoughtfully into her mug.

“Jiya? Is everything alright?” The smile slips of Lucy’s face, and Wyatt and Flynn finally quiet, turning towards the young Ravenclaw.

“Can I talk to you guys about something?” Jiya’s soft voice cuts through the cacophony of the bar. She doesn’t look up from her mug of hot chocolate, instead watches her spoon stir the drink around over and over again.

“Of course.” Lucy shifts closer, growing serious as she shares a look with Rufus, Wyatt, and Flynn. “ _Anything_.”

Jiya sighs, and when she meets their eyes, she looks almost _uncomfortable_. “At first, I thought it was just a dream. But now, I think…”

Rufus rests his hand on top of hers in concern. “What happened, Jiya?”

She shakes her head slightly, teeth nervously sinking into her bottom lip. “I think I had a _vision_.”

“A _vision_?” Flynn scoffs, but softens when Lucy shoots him a glare. “Like, a prophecy?”

“Not exactly.” She explains. “More like I saw bits and pieces of what I think might be the future, I’m not completely sure.”

“Have you talked to Professor Trelawney?” Lucy asks, brow furrowing, and Wyatt snorts, leaning back in his chair.

“That old nutcase?”

“I don’t think she’d be any help. It was all too strange to explain.” Jiya’s eyes slip closed for a brief moment, almost as if she’s trying to picture whatever she saw again.

“Jiya,” Rufus squeezes her hand carefully. “Why are you only telling us this _now_?”

“Because you were all in it.” She admits. “Emma and Jess, too. I can’t help but get this feeling like something _bad_ is going to happen.”

Lucy looks up at Flynn, who raises a brow, arms crossing over his chest, and the pit in Lucy’s stomach only grows. She knows they’re both thinking about the same thing -- _the strange symbol on Lucy’s mother’s side._

“Do you two have something you wish to share with the class?” Wyatt snarks, having noticed Lucy and Flynn’s private looks.

She sighs, taking a long gulp of her butterbeer before leaning in closer, lest someone overhear. “I noticed this symbol, like a tattoo, on my mother’s ribcage. I had never noticed it before. It was like an arrow with a snake wrapped around it.”

“Your mother had a surprisingly wild youth.” Rufus shakes his head in confusion. “So what?”

“A man arrested in London for working with You-Know-Who had the same mark. I saw it in the _Daily Prophet_.” Lucy explains, stomach twisting.

“The Death Eaters who killed my parents had the same symbol on their masks, too.” Flynn adds quietly, and the table falls into a stunned silence.

Wyatt finally turns towards her. “ _Lucy--_ ”

“My mother may be uptight and a little old-fashioned, but she would _never_ associate herself with those awful people, or You-Know-Who.” Lucy explains, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself. Sure, her mother had a tendency to be a little, well, _awful_ , but she was no Death Eater.

Right?

“Of course not, but--” Wyatt tries to continue, but Flynn interrupts him.

“But something is still going on, and we need to find out what.” He finishes. The five of them share a look, and somehow, it soothes Lucy’s anxiety. _Whatever was happening, they’re in it together._

“Well, then.” Rufus slams his hand on the table as he stands. “ _I feel like this calls for another round of butterbeer_.”

* * *

Lucy knows the importance of Defense Against the Dark Arts, especially so recently after the end of You-Know-Who. She understands her mother’s concerns over her defense abilities, considering that Death Eaters are still being rounded up on the streets of London. Still, martial magic has never been Lucy’s strong suit. Combined with her natural clumsiness, this makes Lucy no natural at the subject.

So, when Professor Christopher announces that they’ll be practising duelling in class, Lucy’s heart drops into her stomach. Her anxiety worsens when Christopher announces that _she’ll_ be picking partners for them. She hopes for Rufus or Jiya, considering they’re nearly as bad at DADA as she is -- even Wyatt or Flynn, considering they’d go easy on her.

But Rufus is paired with Jess, and Jiya is paired with Karl, the surly Slytherin who never smiles. Her nerves increase when Wyatt and Flynn are paired with _each other_.

It’s an entertaining show, for what it’s worth. Professor Christopher certainly knew what she was doing, pairing the two together. Flynn seems more amused than concerned, though Wyatt clearly tries his hardest to win. The duel eventually ends in a tie, something which seems to frustrate Wyatt to no end.

“Miss Preston, you’re up next.” Professor Christopher glances at her roster of students, and Lucy’s throat tightens as she steps forward, Jiya squeezing her arm. “You’ll be with...Miss Whitmore.”

The only thing stopping Lucy from audibly groaning is the panic that shoots up her spine, rendering her incapable of doing much of anything. Her mother wasn’t lying when she said that Emma was at the top of their class in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and besides that, Lucy recently learned that she had a solid right hook.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Flynn whispers as she steps forwards, trying to keep her knees from shaking. “Besides, she can’t do anything _too_ bad in front of Professor Christopher.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” Lucy murmurs as she forces herself to the center of the classroom. Emma looks just as smug as ever, fingers tapping excitedly against the length of her wand.

“Bow to your opponent, ladies.” Professor Christopher reminds them, and Lucy, too nervous to take her eyes off of Emma, barely manages a stilted bow. “On my mark…. _Go!”_

Before Lucy can even process what’s happening, Emma is firing a blast of red sparks, headed straight for her.

“ _Protego_!” Lucy flails slightly, hastily casting the defensive spell just in time. However, Emma doesn’t let up, hurling curses at her over and over that Lucy can barely block them before Emma sends another her way.

“Are you just going to _stand there_ , princess?” Emma sneers, stepping closer, and Lucy feels her back hit the wall as she retreats.

“Lucy, _do_ something!” Wyatt urges her, and Lucy swallows hard, heart thudding in her ears, trying to remember every offensive spell she’s ever been taught, but then again, thinking on her feet has never been Lucy’s strong suit.

Emma raises her wand again, and for a brief moment, it seems like everything moves in slow motion. Lucy _remembers_ \-- her mother’s constant disapproval, the loss of her sister, Jiya’s troubling visions, Emma’s constant taunts, beating Wyatt to a _pulp_ , getting the love of her mother that should have gone to her and Amy -- and she’s _angry_.

 _Make sure to mean it,_ her mother had said.

“ _Confringo!”_ Lucy shouts before Emma can utter a word, and the flash of light from her wand nearly blinds her. The sheer sound of the curse hurtling through the air causes the room to fall silent. It’s certainly stronger than any other time she has tried the spell, and when it hits Emma square in the chest, she is thrown across the room, straight into the opposite wall with a loud thud.

Emma hits the floor hard, gasping for air, total shock shining in her eyes. “ _How did you--_ ”

“ _Expelliarmus!”_ Lucy twirls her wand, and Emma’s own wand flies out of her hand and out of reach.

Emma whines in indignation, tries to scramble forward to grab it, but the collision with the wall must have been harder than Lucy thought, because she lets out a groan of pain when she tries to move.

“As referee of this duel, I am pleased to announce Miss Preston is the victor.” Professor Christopher steps forward, trying her best to hide her smile. “Twenty points to Ravenclaw, for Miss Preston’s excellent effort.”

The class bursts into cheers, and Jiya throws her arms around Lucy, practically squealing in delight. Wyatt and Rufus both thump her playfully on the back, praising her newfound dueling prowess.

From across the room, even Jess sends her a slight smile, eyes warm with respect, as she helps Emma to her feet. Emma herself, much to Lucy’s surprise, doesn’t even look _angry_ , but instead, a bit impressed.

Most importantly, Flynn is smiling at her, his eyes sparkling, like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen, and Lucy’s heart _soars_.

* * *

When Lucy steps into her mother’s rooms, Carol Preston is already seated at the table, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and a large glass of Scotch in front of her.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She apologizes, slipping into the seat across from her.

Carol brushes over her apology. “I heard about your recent achievement in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Lucy blinks in surprise, and is even more shocked when her mother sets down her paper and actually _smiles_ , the pride and adoration shining on her face that Lucy so often imagined. “Did Professor Christopher tell you?” If she did, it would be a surprise. The relationship between them had always been curiously touchy, though Lucy had no idea why.

“No, Miss Whitmore did.” Carol folds her hands carefully on the table. Lucy’s brows rise even further. “She was impressed. Your progress has been most remarkable. You’ll surely be up to scratch, for what’s to come.”

“What’s to come?” Her brows furrow in confusion, and despite her mother’s relaxed demeanor, Lucy can’t ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, the prickly sensation of panic spreading up her spine. “Mom, what are you doing with Emma and Jess, anyway?”

Her mother’s smile slips into a smirk. “Well, Miss Horwood’s parents work for the Department of Mysteries. Did you know that?” Lucy shakes her head, and her mother continues. “Such a shame, to hear about her poor brother. Still, it wasn’t that hard to help him, in return for the Horwoods’ cooperation, of course.”

“Wait, you _saved_ Jess’s brother? How did you--”

Her mother continues as if Lucy hadn’t said anything at all. “As for Miss Whitmore, she is a talented student. Quite eager to please, you know. Not surprising, considering those wretched parents of hers.” Lucy doesn’t quite know what _that’s_ supposed to mean, but she doesn’t interrupt. “She’ll be useful, up until a point. After all, she’s only a filthy _mudblood_.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Lucy gasps in horror, feeling sick. “How can you _say_ that?”

“Muggles don’t have _magic_ , Lucy.” Her mother takes on that lecturing, patronizing tone that Lucy _hates_. “They are inferior in every way, and their children that somehow have magic are abominations.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Lucy starts. “Is that what that tattoo means? That you’re in You-Know-Who’s inner posse?”

“You shouldn’t speak on things of which you know nothing.” Her mother’s eyes flare in anger, and Lucy forces herself not to flinch back.

“Then tell me about this thing of which I know nothing!” She steels herself, nails biting into her palms. “ _No more lies_.”

Carol eyes her carefully, almost with _respect_ , before relaxing slightly. “The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but he is not dead.” At this, Lucy’s eyes widen. _That wasn’t possible_ . He had been killed in Godric’s Hollow, that little baby -- _Harry Potter_ \-- the only survivor. “Some of his most loyal servants have been experimenting with time magic, so that He may have a more...favorable outcome against the Potters.”

“So that’s what that symbol is? A less flashy Dark Mark?” Lucy tries to contain her shock and _complete and utter disbelief._

“Rittenhouse, is what we’re called. All of his most noble and dedicated followers, working for His return and His most noble goal -- to rid the world of the filth that has sullied it for so long.” Her mother reaches forward, fingers cold as ice as she brushes a lock of hair behind Lucy’s ear. “With the Horwoods’ information from the Department of Mysteries, we are closer than _ever._ And you, Lucy, with blood as pure as snow -- it is time for you to join us.”

Lucy stumbles back, out of her chair, chest tight with anguish. “How could you even _ask_ me that? You know I will never join you and those horrible people!”

“Lucy, calm _down_.” Her mother chastises her, and Lucy simply shakes her head, as if she could shake away everything her mother just told her.

“ _How could you do this?”_ Lucy is barely aware that she’s raising her voice, almost _shouting_. When her mother rises to her feet, hands curled tight around the edge of the table, the wave of fear that washes over her almost overtakes her anger.

 _“Lucy_ \--” Her mother’s eyes are all fire, and Lucy’s throat goes tight. Her mother wouldn’t really _hurt her_ , would she?

Before Carol can complete her sentence, there’s a loud _bang_ outside, so loud that it shakes the room. Lucy doesn’t have time to think about what the source is, because it’s enough to distract her mother and allow Lucy to make a break for the door.

She can hear her mother shouting after her, but Lucy doesn’t break her stride as she charges down the corridor, lungs _burning_ and head spinning.

She isn’t aware that she’s crying until she runs head first into Wyatt, Rufus, Jiya, and Flynn, who had been coming back from dinner.

“ _Lucy, what’s going on?”_ Jiya places steadying hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. “ _What happened?”_

It’s Flynn that she turns to, tears streaming down her face, her entire body _trembling_ . “My mom,” She hiccups, can barely force out the words. “She’s a _Death Eater_ , she’s trying to bring back You-Know-Who, she’s manipulating Emma and blackmailing Jess into helping her, she’s--”

“She’s _what?”_ Wyatt starts in surprise, and Lucy shakes her head.

“She wants me to help her, too. We need to _go--_ ”

“ _Miss Preston!_ ”

Lucy jumps in surprise, and it’s only natural to reach for her wand as she whips around. Sure, she still may not be the _best_ at offensive magic, but surely all five of them could take on her mother?

It’s Professor Christopher, Connor Mason just to her left. Neither of them look particularly _surprised_ , though Christopher raises her hands, showing that she is no threat.

“All of you, come with us. And _quickly_.” The professor orders, in a tone that brokers no argument.

The five of them hurry off down the dimly lit hall after her, towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Every few seconds, Lucy looks back, certain that she’ll see her mother, or Emma and Jess, chasing after her.

It’s only when Professor Christopher locks the door to her cramped office behind all of them that Lucy allows herself to exhale, if only for a moment.

“You _knew_ about my mother, didn’t you?” Lucy turns to her professor, who only sighs, crossing her arms around herself.

“I had my suspicions, yes. But I didn’t have any evidence...until now.” Christopher shares a long look with Connor. He shrugs, just _barely_ , and the professor continues. “The Order of the Phoenix has been investigating Rittenhouse over the past few years. We think that they are the only faction of You-Know-Who’s followers that survived his downfall.”

“And _you’re_ helping them?” Flynn raises a brow, looking towards Connor, who lets out a sharp laugh.

“Something like that, yes.” He steps forwards, closer to the group of younger students. “Professor Dumbledore asked me to help Professor Christopher when I showed interest in studying time magic.”

“So, what? You’re going to beat Lucy’s mom who’s using time magic by _using time magic?”_ Rufus asks in confusion. “ _What kind of logic--”_

“We’re going to need all of your help.” Professor Christopher interrupts him. “Now that you know about Rittenhouse, you’re all in danger. I’m sorry.”

Lucy glances around to her friends -- the only people she has _left_ , now that her mother betrayed her. None of them asked for this. But when they meet her eyes, strong and _radiant_ , she knows what she has to say.

“We’re in. _All of us_.” Lucy nods, straightening her spine and exhaling, readying herself for what’s to come.

Agent Christopher smiles slightly, before stepping over to her desk. Out of one of the draws, she pulls out what, from far away, looks like a _necklace_.

“Is that a _time turner_?” Flynn whispers, as the low light of the fire lights up the hourglass design on the pendant.

“A modified one, but yes.” Agent Christopher presses it in to Lucy’s hand, eyes serious. “Go back, find out whatever you can about your mother and Rittenhouse, and whatever you do, _don’t get caught_.”

Lucy swallows hard and nods. She knows little about time magic, but she does know just how _dangerous_ it could be, and how dire the consequences would be if she ran in to her past self.

“Twirl it three times. That should me enough.” Connor informs them. “Good luck, all of you.”

Lucy’s four friends step closer, forming a circle around her. Rufus wraps his arm around Jiya’s shoulders. Wyatt gives her a slight smile, overconfident as always. Besides her, she feels Flynn’s hand slip into hers. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, before she carefully spins the hourglass. _One. Two._

_Three._

The five of them blink out of existence.


End file.
